


It's Only a Paper Moon

by poeticpromise



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Civilian Reader, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Pretty Canon Divergent, and a potential rating change, and this is my first time writing in this fandom, be GENTLE this is my first time publishing a fic in ages, plenty of tags to be added later, so much angst is coming ya'll don't even KNOW, so uh, that's a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticpromise/pseuds/poeticpromise
Summary: Thanks to the success of the prototype, the RK800 model is put into mass production for police departments across the country to handle minor deviancy cases from evolving into something worse. It was only a matter of time before they were made obsolete by the faster, stronger, smarter RK900, and the remaining RK800s that were still in service are sold off to the public to offset upgrade costs to be repurposed. When the original Detroit prototype lands in your lap, what are you to do?





	It's Only a Paper Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to shibemythri to helping me edit this (and tolerating me using them to throw ideas at and help talk me through them). Another huge thanks to anyone taking the time to read this. I so quickly found a home in this fandom (credit to Momma Precursor for bringing us all together. If you haven't already, go check out Deviant Behavior). I adore so many of you. It's thanks to you guys that I'm finally getting back into this sort of thing.

He remembered the first time that he heard rumors about another RK model that was set to come out. He was reluctant to even ask Amanda about it. After all, he was the golden boy who never caused a problem, not even within his own interfaces.He was there for his mission, and just his mission. If the completion of that had concluded with him being replaced and dismantled, then, well... He still accomplished his mission.

He had done everything flawlessly, done far more than the current heads of CyberLife could have ever imagined. It was thanks to Connor’s efforts that any hints at a revolution were quickly put to rest. Sure, there were still the odd deviant cases here and there that would still flare up across Detroit, but he had always managed to snuff them out with such swift, calculated precision that he had truly become the very definition of a model detective android, useful for something beyond tedious chores in varying professions. He had even felt something akin to pride at the announcement of CyberLife beginning production on more RK800s. After all, androids weren’t only there, and everywhere the synthetic lifeform existed, so too could the problems in their programming that would cause them to act out in all manners of way, and it seemed the only solution was a mass roll out of the renowned android detective.

It was Gavin, of all people, who had been the one to catch him so off guard, he felt like the man had punched him in the gut all over again. He had been walking past Connor when he said something about how his buddy who worked security for CyberLife had picked up some news on a new prototype. In that particular brand of overcompensating smugness known only to Gavin, he commented on how this was just proof that human detectives like him shouldn’t be worried about being replaced by plastic pricks like him. Even with what ended up being so many like him made, Connor wasn’t good enough to stick around for long.

The original RK800 gave acknowledgement to Gavin’s words once they settled in his mind, neither confirming or denying them. Even  _ he _ couldn’t find anything concrete from CyberLife about a new model in the RK line. He been sure that he would have learned of it by the time his fourth (and third too many) search was completed on if there was  _ any _ truth to it. But, each hunt for information, a confirmation, came up blank. He kept up his generally friendly demeanor, and bid the overly rude detective a good afternoon before settling into his desk, waiting patiently for a new report to come in.

Connor wasn’t sure what to even think of the rumor. Look at the source. It could have just been something to unsettle him, to throw him off his game. Every protocol in him that was invested in self preservation screamed that he had to somehow work even harder than he already was. To become as indispensable to the team, to make it that even the  _ thought _ of replacing him would seem ludicrous. If there was even  _ any  _ consideration to replace him, it was because he just wasn’t good enough. That they weren’t good enough. And he alone had to prove that wrong.

Connor wasn’t sure if it was worse that Gavin could be right, or that he had considered believing him in the first place.

Three months later, the news broke out.

CyberLife was sure to explain that while the RK800 models had never posed a problem, and had only done their jobs well, that these  **_brand new_ ** RK900s would be able to do all that the previous model could, and  _ more _ . They were stronger, faster, smarter. The few prototypes they had dropped undercover into other cities (in the uniform of their predecessor as to not arouse any suspicion or cause further rumors to start prematurely) had managed to not only tear through deviant cases at breakneck speeds, but their remaining free time was spent helping piece together  _ human _ crimes. They proved efficient in chasing down fleeing criminals of both varieties with little to no incident. It was all well within the results that CyberLife had wanted and then some. 

They were rolling out the new models within a matter of weeks of the announcement.

All this, of course, left a surplus of otherwise useless androids in nearly every police station across the country. To help offset the cost of the RK900s, CyberLife had actively encouraged that the older models be sold off to the public. They helped endorse the original for its excellent strength and speed, it’s intelligence and ability to converse with civilians. The RK800s began to be sold off, city by city, and they were proposed to be repurposed as anything: from personal assistants to security guards. They were smart enough to figure out nearly any job put in front of them, and that was the  _ only _ reason most of them didn’t end up in a landfill. Otherwise, who wants to invest in something that was so quickly discontinued?

A month after the news broke, Connor found himself standing in something resembling a junkyard anyway.

It was his turn.

Only a few days ago, the RK900 had entered the police station. As initial excitement and curiosity among officers settled, Connor was only ever approached by his replacement. Their first, and only, exchange was as calm and minimal as it had needed to be, but it had left Connor confused. A series of numbers that he didn’t recognize were read to him in a voice deeper, and much more commanding than his own. It clearly wasn’t meant to shut him down. It didn’t leave him reformatting himself. The only thing he had noticed was that he felt an uncomfortable weight settle into his stomach, something humans always say was a means to know that something was wrong.

As Connor began to step up to the place where the car had been sold before him, it finally hit him.

Any sort of access the files of cases he had worked on were gone. Amanda was gone. Anything that had once let him connect to CyberLife and all of its faculties had been instantly dissolved by just a few numbers. 

Since the day the RK900 appeared, he had been shuffled off to the android stations to wait out his remaining time, and his old desk was taken immediately by someone with too familiar of a face. Connor had forced himself into the closest thing he had to stand-by mode, for the sake of not having to watch a better version of himself do what, he alone, had pioneered. He had no need to consult any source in that time, but as the weight of his situation finally settled down around him, and as he approached the cleared out space to be displayed, he threw his body into autopilot and desperately sought out the comfort and familiarity of the garden.

All Connor was greeted with was a bleak scene: plants long neglected that were withered and crumbling to dust, the water dried up and leaving behind cracked clay. Stress began to make his bones heavy, the pump in his chest made thirium pound uncomfortably underneath his skin. He didn’t even hear the introduction he was given as he tried to run through the once tranquil scene he’d been given in his programming. The false world around him began to crumble and he was forced to become painfully aware of people examining his body, placing a monetary value on him.

He never once questioned the purpose of his existence, but his current situation left him certain that it would have been a kindness to just deactivate him.

 

* * *

  
  


You hadn't come here with anything specific in mind that you were after. You didn't need anything, exactly. Maybe you could find furniture for future jobs, or you could snag a (nearly) new tablet or two for cheap to regift later, you reasoned everything away with yourself as you questioned your own presence at this government auction.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jacket, the tips of your fingers stinging in a similar fashion to your nose that was being needlessly nibbled at by air that was too cold for being this early in fall. You always enjoyed the scenery of autumn, along with the reprieve from the summer heat, and had always looked forward to it as a result. But, like clockwork, however, because of the way it eventually bled into freezing temperatures and early snow shed, you also had an underlying bitterness toward the season that raised its head every year at the same time.

You mindlessly browsed through what they had on display prior to selling, mind roaming to potential uses for most things you saw. The red leather couch would look great in the loft apartment you were hired to stage for sale later this month. The investor's widow you were redecorating a lake house for would love the teal vase that was nearly as tall as you. And, your niece  _ could _ use a TV in her new dorm, you considered, eyeballing a few of the smaller models that had been set out.

After deciding on a few things you had intended to bid on, as long as they stayed well within your price range when the bidding started, you made your way toward the bulk of the crowd. You figured that most of the people packed together at the front were most likely interested in snagging a car for cheap, as those seemed to be items at hand. You were apparently right, as the last car's bidding war was finished up and the car was pulled away, the crowd had cleared significantly, and you could get a better look at what was being brought up next.

Your eyebrows perked up in surprise at what appeared for sale. At first, you thought it to be someone who was just  _ way  _ out of place, but you quickly gathered clues about the stiffly moving man taking a place next to the podium. The jacket was what you noticed first, with that arm band that you always felt was a little  _ too _ reminiscent of the Holocaust whenever you noticed it on androids. You could barely make out his led from where you stood, but the yellow spun so quickly that anyone near it would have just assumed it to be a solid circle.

The auctioneer explained a few base details about the android, suggesting that everyone probably had already heard about this model already. The detective bit rang a bell, but you spent so much of your time coming and going in and out of town and trying to keep your nose buried in your work, that you were mostly oblivious to deviant happenings around the city. But, it wasn’t like you  _ hadn’t  _ heard of it. It was all the rage awhile ago.

A pair of older ladies next to you discussed how attractive the android was, and had decided that they could split the cost between each other and split their time with him, both wanting to use him for things like keeping their yards maintained and their driveways clear from the snow that couldn't be more than a month away (if the current chill was any indication). One started to make a comment about "that backside" before she was quickly shushed by the other, both devolving into mischievous giggles and whispers. You saw a couple men in black polos eyeballing it from a few feet away, noting the logo on their shirts as being for a security firm that patrolled a few parts of the city’s residential high rises. They were probably just looking for a clearance robo-lackey to lessen the need to supply payroll for an actual person. Plus, an android was a lot less of a liability on insurance costs.

The android looked stoic, but not in an unapproachable way. You just figured it all probably boiled down to some part of his design. You could have almost swore that you saw a silent panic beneath the surface, a fear of what might become of it because it was  **_aware_ ** of its surroundings. It obviously wasn't waiting around in stasis to be activated like all the other ones in the stores: unaware of its situation until it was brought into its new home. It was awake and aware of the purgatory that was the selling block.

It  _ knew _ .

You shook the thought from your head, dismissing it to the fact that it just looked so real, and that those would be things a person would be feeling if they were being sold off like a piece of meat. This was entirely different, right? But, you saw the way it's eyes scanned the crowd, and the fingers of one of its hands moved restlessly, as if it was trying to twirl something between them that just didn't exist anymore. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for it as the bidding began.

There were a few bids outside of the two groups of people you expected to have wanted it, but the amount of money just wasn't climbing up to be anything more significant than any of the larger purchases you were considering today. You saw androids go for more than five figures, and if this one was as advanced as they said, why was it not even breaking a thousand dollars? You weren't sure of anything besides the fact that you were so lost while watching it, the number barely climbing until it seemed that the security team would end up with it. Their business accounts had more than a couple retirement funds, after all. 

It was when its eyes managed to lock on you that something unexplainable happened: you jumped up to raise your paddle. Before your brain could even catch up, you called out your bid.

"Two thousand!"

A few people turned to look at you, as if they didn't even notice that you were there before. And yet, here you were, nearly doubling the current bid. There were a few murmurs between the men before they threw out a measly bid just above yours.

"Twenty five," you jumped it up again, which was met by silence from everyone but the auctioneer.

It wasn't until you heard the gavel hit that the weight of what you'd done set in.

"Twenty five hundred for the RK800 to bidder 127!" the man called before looking towards you. "Your account’ll be charged and you can pick up the paperwork where you registered," he explained before checking his tablet for whatever was to be brought up next.

The android seemed frozen in place, just staring at you with wide brown eyes until someone actually came to lead it away to where the rest of the purchased merchandise were. You didn't move for a few moments, wondering what the hell you just threw away all that money on.

Reality snapped back, and you started to make your way towards the table you had registered your bidding number at from earlier that day, spotting your purchase nearby, its eyes were still on you. You signed off on the purchase and were given a few physical papers for immediate proof of purchase, plus a few starting instructions for the new CyberLife addition to your household. But, the rest was digital and was probably already in your email.

With a heavy swallow, you waved it to you as you started towards the exit, all thoughts and plans for what you wanted to bid on before were now completely gone from your mind. The android obediently followed, quickly catching up to you, and following at your heel like a lost puppy until you reached your car.

Neither of you said a word as you climbed inside, and the increasingly uncomfortable silence continued on as you made your way to a nicer suburb on the westside of town. Your nerves were on edge the entire time. But, you tried to excuse away the slight trembling in your hands on the temperature. Yeah the weather. Definitely not the impulsive decision you had just made. Your eyes were locked forward the entire trip, not knowing what it was staring at you as you drove, and trying to at least act like you didn't care.

If Nate saw you now, he'd laugh at all the layers of irony.

After the car parked itself in front of the garage, you both simply sat there, the silence becoming agonizing at this point. You were this thing's  _ owner _ , you reminded yourself. Whatever it was going to do would have to be based off of you. The feeling was sick, the thought of  _ owning  _ another being that even looked like it should have a mind of its own.

"Well, I guess," you finally said after spending too much time biting the inside of your cheek, coaxing yourself to continue speaking, “Welcome home."


End file.
